


Queen

by barrelrider666



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, POV Sherlock Holmes, been listening to a lot of Queen lately, maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:58:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barrelrider666/pseuds/barrelrider666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started as a boring afternoon turns into Sherlock's small performance in front of his dormmate's Rugby posters by himself. Or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever so be gentle. I was listening to Queen all day and got this idea. All spelling errors are min. Doing this thing solo. I do not own these boys but I wish I did.

It was raining. Well, it always rained in London but this time it flooded his way out of this damned dorm room. He had things to do! People to see! Especially about a pair of human hands that he was going to dip in acid for research purposes. But since there was no way out of this blasted room and he’ll be damned to go and make small talk with the other students. He wasn’t even going live here much longer. In two months he’d be moving out to a nice little flat on Baker Street if he could find a flatmate.

He had just discussed this with his dorm mate Mike Stamford. Nice enough guy but was moving closer to his family since someone was, well, Sherlock didn’t know he wasn’t listening. But what matter right now at this exact moment was to find something to preoccupy his mind. He was bored. Bored out of his wits and so help him if he didn’t stop the absolute silence in the room or the racing thoughts that would not quiet in his head he’d explode! Or explode something. Anything was better than this.

Sherlock paced the small room he shared with Mike. It was large enough to fit 2 desks with their swivel chairs, 2 dressers, 2 beds, and a small enough space to pace back and forth. He laid on his unmade bed and looked around the room. Pale blue walls and some of Mike’s rugby posters with the occasional hot rod. Sherlock’s periodic table poster was on his wall along with some post-it notes detailing certain experiments and equations he was preforming at this time. Mike’s bed was made and the flannel sheets and duvet were tucked under the mattress for good measure. Sherlock’s bed was a mess as per usual and his purple silk sheets were strewn about the place along with his notes and shoes. Well, Einstein was also messy so who can blame him. Untidiness is a sign of genius. Sighing heavily he began to pace again and became more irritable. Mike was able to leave before the rain started so he was alone in the small dorm room, which normally he’d love, but today wasn’t a day he wanted to stay cooped up.

Looking around again his eyes landed on a small crate where Mike kept some records. On simple days when Sherlock cleaned out his mind palace Mike would play some and that would be background noise while they did their separate tasks. It should annoy Sherlock, and it usually does, until Mike played a band called Queen. As much as Sherlock tried to ignore he always ended up humming to one of their songs under his breath whether it be when working or just in his mind palace. He enjoyed them so much he even put a couple of songs in his phone that he’d listen to make his mind calm down the ever flowing waterfall of thoughts.

Walking over to the crate he bent down and flicked through the albums until he found the one he wanted. A Day at the Races. Placing the record on the player he started the music. Tie Your Mother Down started playing and he just let himself breath. He looked around the room and decided that if he can clean his mind palace to this music he could tidy up his side of the room. The least he could do for Mike since he does allow him to experiment in here. So he started picking up some papers and quietly hummed to the music.

After the album ended he was almost done with tidying, but for good measure he played it over again. He was feeling a bit looser and was actually singing along and somewhat enjoying himself. The second time going through the album he had a soft smile on his face and was doing little spins here and there with the music. He finished cleaning but decided why the hell not three times wouldn’t hurt. By the time Long Away started he was gone. He was standing on his bed singing and doing twirls that took him back to his time in ballet that had him feeling high and flying. Like he could face anything. And in this moment, Sherlock Holmes was invincible!

Getting more into the album, he starts feeling the music. He feels like he could fall in love with someone. He wishes that someone could love him. He knows it’s ridiculous and that it’d never happen and that it’d be a disadvantage to his life, but at this moment he lets himself feel. He’s alone with no prying eyes and the more he’s allowing himself to feel the rift picks up on Millionaire Waltz and he’s dancing and singing and just pretending just for one second he isn’t Sherlock Holmes the sociopath, but just Sherlock. And with that he starts belting out the lyrics he secretly memorized and stored behind a door in his mind palace with a lock and key. The same door he keeps the desires and foolish fantasies of love and wanting to belong hidden.

Then he hears it. Not just hears it but feels it. His favorite song on the record just like almost everyone else in the world. Can anybody find Sherlock somebody to love? And with that thought he performs this song to Mike’s rugby posters and to his skull and anyone else in hearing range because he’s going to sing the crap out of this song!

“Can anybody find me, SOMEBODY TO LOVE!!!”

He can feel the emotions and heart and all the repressed emotions just escape with those last few notes and wave of relief is so intoxicating that he didn’t even hear his room door open and a Mike Stamford standing there with short stocky blond staring at him until there was applause. And in that second Sherlock’s bubble, that was filled with emotion and happiness and freedom, popped and he was sucker punched with reality and the fact that his dormmate and his incredibly attractive companion had just seen him basically scream to Queen.

With his arms now at his side and his face in utter disbelief, Sherlock slowly climbed off of his bed and dropped his magnifying glass Mycroft had given him for his 17th birthday. He schooled his features to the best of his abilities, walked with his back cast to his unexpected audience, and turned off the record player. He knew his face was most likely the color of Mike and his companion’s rugby uniform but still he was a Holmes and he will face these men head on. With a swift and deep breath he turned toward them and cataloged what he could.

Which wasn’t much because all he saw was a stunning young man with a blond fringe, big blue eyes, and a smile that looked so incredibly sweet. Sherlock could not stop himself from taking in the boy fully. Rugby player, but that was easy, he wore the uniform. Come now, Sherlock, focus! He played rugby for a couple years now from the look of his worn cleats and the tan muscle he packed under that shirt, which was stressed just so that you can see how defined he was-

“Well, I always prepared myself to expect the unexpected coming back to a room you’ve been stuck in for a couple hours, but never this, which is a great change might I add.”

Mike smiled and there was a small sparkle in his eyes that Sherlock would’ve caught if it weren’t for the blond boy gazing up at him from behind long eyelashes. The boy just smiled wider and stuck out his hand.

“John Watson, Mike here told me that you were looking for a flatmate.”

Sherlock looked at his hand. His gorgeous, strong hand that Sherlock only dream of holding and kissing those finger tips. With a small nod he looked back at the shorter boy then back out the window to see that it stopped raining.

“I’ve got my eye on a nice little place in Central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We meet there tomorrow evening, seven o’clock. Sorry, got to dash.” With that Sherlock walked past them, slightly brushing against John’s side and feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through him. “We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where we’re meeting.” John looked a little miffed which oddly Sherlock didn’t want to be the cause of. Slightly puzzled by that revelation he tried to fix it.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. You also know I like Queen. Afternoon. ” And with a small smirk and a wink Sherlock practically ran down to the main floor and gave a silent thank you to whatever deity was listening that the flooding went down. . He had things to do. People to see. And a pair of human hands to pick up.

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? Leave me comments please! And if you want this to be more than a one shot let me know! PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! <3


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